SickTanicK:6 Minutes Of Shame Lyrics

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I've got a 1000 plus units hanging off my beltYou've got a 1000 plus vibrators up on your shelfFeel special little faggot that I even dropped thisCause you ain't getting one single cent or profitI'm your worse nightmareThe devil in the fleshThis be a fight to the finishA battle to the deathOnce again I'm triumphant while you're living in a dreamAnd I'd have to bring you glasses to see meYou wanna be meI know that you're hurtingAnd you won't live forever cause your death is certainAnd while I'm laying back at homeFucking the finest of bitchesYou're busy sucking dick off for some wrestling ticketsYou wanna talk hip hop and punchlinesWell ask your boy about a punch bitch because he caught mineThat wasn't no cheap shotWe were face to faceSo tell me bitch, how the fuck does my fist taste?And while you sit at home scared under coversI'm outside of your house jacking off to pictures of your motherAnd then I'll switch and jack off to my ownYo, my mom might be deadBut you still suck on the microphone

Everybody wanna hate what they didn't create,But I ain't going nowhere because I'm here to stayI'm here to stayI'ma keep it poppingKeep the records droppingKeep them haters watching

You're a clone and a drone, all aloneCalling sex lines on the cell phoneCause you can't get your ownAnd you're wife left you cause of lack of genitaliaYou're wife left you 'cause you're nothing but a failure [oh!]And I really don't care what you faggots sayI'll put you out like a cigarette in the ashtrayAnd what's this about a order trying to stop me, shit!I'll cut y'all up with this lyrical autopsyGut you out, weigh your organs on a scaleYou can't stop the riseAll you haters failAll you punk mother fuckersYou will never stop me cause y'all are straight bitchesMy philosophy is misogynyI come from the land of the South-WestGetting dirty in the desert smoking all the finest sessWhile you bitches be hating trying to place betsOn who will take me outI'm glad to know I'm in your breath

Everybody wanna hate what they didn't create,But I ain't going nowhere because I'm here to stayI'm here to stayI'ma keep it poppingKeep the records droppingKeep them haters watching

All you myspace rappers please put down the micAnd do something with your lives instead of wasting my timeAnd keep spreading hate 'cause it's free promotionAnd if I suck so bad then what the fuck is the big commotion!?I move units across the oceanWhile you new school killas on the myspace promotingAnd when did horrorcore become acceptable to Christians?I thought the Bible said plainly no killing?You fucking hypocritesGet your Bibles write your versesY'all some fake mother fuckersThe wicked shit ain't for the churchesThere ain't no god that condones any violenceSo put down the micAnd be good with the silenceI'm dropping verses that be so hotThey make the devil get down on his knees and wanna suck my cockAnd some of the things I say may leave you shockedSo in simple don't listen try that as a thought bitches

Oh no here I go with another diss trackBut I won't drop names cause their shit is that whackI I stay intact with the paper while you concentrate on beefAnd you wonder why your records broken slain on the concreteYou couldn't sell a record to a retard with millionsI burn your rhymes up like the twin tower buildingsI got legends on my labelYou're an unestablished artistTalking big about connects when your their favorite artist money targetLittle bitch, Little bitch that be meBut this little bitch here is taking over your sceneEverywhere that you goI know you're seeing my faceHow does it feel to be no oneThat you're a straight disgraceDon't waste no timeAnd don't spit no rhymesI'd rather kill myself then hear you on the micThat's right, I said itAnd I hope my words embedded in your mind before I call AL queda have your ass beheaded, were sitting here, talking lyrical supremacy the don perrion of the game you the hennesseyTake a step downLet a real man spitI'm the leader of this new breed of wicked shitI built a single empire in about three yearsWhile you're playing with fireAnd burning down all your bridges

Take notice and respect to my dialectI keep it all in check while you're still placing betsI cut cheques to my artistsWhile you're checking out the telly got degrees in street hustle while your still on your GEDGraduate then talk to meUntil then imitation for you is the only keySo keep buying, keep writing to increase your salesAnd you can sit and serve in heaven

While I'm raining down in hellI dwell in an another undergroundFuck a backpackI prefer another brutal soundA wickedness brought up by suicidalistThe dawn of this mother fucking South-West wicked shit

I never needed anybody in this rap gameNo radios, be jamming this killer everydayBut you used up like an old meth pipeAnd with hair like that I should call you a Frisco dykeOn the mic I drop bombs causing harmWhile you're masturbating and fantasise about my songsI'll smoke you out like a bongWeak bitch don't tripWhen I exhale the smoke your career ends quickI pack clipz full of lyrical slugsThey penetrate and deform your face worse than it ever was,Get Proactive you drug addict bitchAnd I'm not from city of ComptonBut I still drop hitsUnderground 24 years oldMaking money off this music while your style runs coldLet me unfold, project and then manifestWhile you punch every bar cause you ran outta breathDon't step to meNo disrespecting meI'll do you like cube did in no VaselineStraight fucking the game with my soulless dickYou can call me SickTanicKI fiend for the wicked shit